Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Kosovo and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Fortunes to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Martian. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
the Swans,
Stetsasonic,
These Immortal Souls,
Gang Green,
The Motions,
Robert Hood,
Symarip,
Moby Grape,
Urselle,
The Skatalites,
The J.B.'s,
The Black Dice,
The Real Kids,
Thee Headcoats,
The Searchers,
F. McDonald,
Duran Duran,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Lydon,
Fugazi,
Joe Finger,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ice-T,
The United States of America,
8 Eyed Spy,
Easy Going,
Banda Bassotti,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wally Richardson,
Bobby Sherman,
Barrington Levy,
Sex Pistols,
Youth Brigade,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kayak,
the Soft Cell,
Ludus,
X-101,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mantronix,
Scan 7,
Echospace,
The Gun Club,
The New Christs,
The Barracudas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
The Dead C,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Seeds,
The Divine Comedy,
Laurel Aitken,
Maleditus Sound,
Sister Nancy,
Fear,
Malaria!,
Magazine,
Ornette Coleman,
Isaac Hayes,
Archie Shepp,
Donald Byrd,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.